


Bitter Brew

by Racethewind_10



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Angst, F/F, F/M, Implied Relationships, JJ/Emily implied only, Regret, this is not a happy fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-28
Updated: 2015-08-28
Packaged: 2018-04-17 14:49:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4670732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Racethewind_10/pseuds/Racethewind_10
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Now all those delicious fantasies tasted bitter, like the cheapest squad room brew too old and reheated and burned, grounds in the bottom of the cup that made JJ grimace, her stomach rebelling even as her heart ached deeply.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bitter Brew

**Author's Note:**

> Please read the tags/pairings. This was original a gift for longgonedown who is evil and prompted "angst and coffee" 
> 
> I am slowly starting to move some of my older fics over from fanfic.net to my ao3 archive. slowly. because it counts as accomplishing something...right?

The early morning sun struggling through the perpetual summer haze blanketing D.C. was just strong enough for the woman standing at the kitchen sink to squint, eyes still heavy with sleep looking away from where the pale light attempted to stream through the window.

A lingering weariness that had only a little to do with a restless night clung to her bones, making the journey the fine boned hand took to reach across the granite counter top feel far longer than it actually was. Familiarity guided her fingers around the handle of the shiny black coffee pot, succeeding in making up for the lack of energy with sheer habit.

The smooth plastic still felt vaguely out of place in her hand after all this time and she almost hesitated. The knowledge that the other occupant of the house would be up soon and in desperate need of caffeine, however, was enough to force the hand through the once-automatic reactions of pouring the strong, dark liquid in the royal blue FBI mug:  _her_ royal blue FBI mug, because her partner got a kick out of drinking from it.

Since Special Agent Jennifer Jareau could no longer bring herself to drink from that mug, she had no real grounds for objection.

It wasn't the mug itself that was the problem, or at least, not the  _whole_ of the problem. The mug itself was merely an innocent bystander; caught in the crossfire of memory and longing, past and present, fantasy and reality.

Pushing the mug and its treacherous contents across the small island that served as the breakfast table carefully, JJ did her best to avoid looking at what the mug contained.

It was an odd action, but most who knew the agent would simply assume that post pregnancy, JJ's system still couldn't handle the caffeine, or that she was being careful while breast feeding.

They certainly weren’t _wrong,_ it was just…not the whole of the problem.

JJ hadn't given up coffee solely because of the baby. It was certainly a reason: willing to admit if only to herself she had been terrified of having a child, JJ could no more endanger the life inside her than break her oath to her country. That wasn't who she was.

It just wasn't the  _only_ reason.

In truth, JJ hadn't been able to stomach the rich, dark liquid that had been a nearly ubiquitous part of her life for some time before the little line showed blue and she was ambushed by the knowledge she was to become a mother.

No, the full truth was that JJ had given up coffee because it reminded her too much of her past; of missed opportunity and regret, of might have beens and should haves. Coffee reminded JJ of Emily Prentiss and that was a reminder her heart simply couldn't bear every morning.

As if bound and determined to thwart her best attempts at avoidance however, a tendril of sweet, velvety scent found its way to her nose and JJ couldn't stop the involuntary drawing of breath any more than she could hold back the cascade of images and thoughts that the tiny wisp of steam brought with it.

More than any other food or drink, JJ had quickly come to associate coffee with Emily. It was more than just the other agent's nearly obsessive devotion to her first cup in the morning – black, of course - " _Latte's are for wimps."_ And it wasn't simply the way that Emily's eyes were the very color of the richest French roast or the way her home always smelled just faintly of fresh ground beans.

Sharing the hot drink became a ritual for them. All the times they had sat at a small table in Emily's favorite hole in the wall coffee shop before going to the office, simply talking or not as their moods determined. All the times working a case when the search for a halfway decent cup became a much needed distraction from the blood and fear and the fragility of life. And all those times they had sat in each other's kitchens or living rooms, especially in winter, where outside snow blanketed the capital and inside hands wrapped around smooth, steaming ceramic and eyes met twinkling over gentle twists of fragrant steam. .

Each moment, each memory was a drop: a single, rich, heady part of a wonderful whole that had been indelibly poured into JJ's memory with the scent of coffee, fresh ground or just brewed

And it didn't stop with memory, because Emily and coffee were inevitably a part of JJ's fantasies as well.

How many times had she watched Emily raise her black mug to her mouth and wondered what it would be like to touch those lips with her fingers…with her own mouth. How often had she wondered if with that first taste – which would be gentle and nearly chaste – she wouldn't find the flavor of Emily's favorite roast there; a flavor that would vanish quickly when JJ pressed forward and brought her tongue across Emily's lower lip. Her tongue would slide into the welcoming heat of Emily's mouth and she would find a flavor that was all Emily and so, so much more intoxicating than anything brewed in a pot.

Those thoughts had inevitably been followed by curiosity as to what Emily's skin would feel like under her fingers. When she undid the buttons of that red silk shirt Emily loved to wear so much, would the creamy flesh she found be as smooth as she imagined? In JJ's fantasies it was always more so. The wondering didn't stop there of course, because Emily Prentiss would be addictive. Much more so than any hit of caffeine, trailing her lips and fingers across the curves and hollows of the other woman’s body would be a rush like no other and when JJ finally gave in to the soft pleading that would come from those full red lips with their hint of coffee flavor and took Emily into her mouth, her taste, her taste would be so much richer, so easy to lose herself in until Emily cried out again, and again and eventually begged her to stop.

Depending on how much time JJ had, the fantasy rarely ended there and on many occasion, a simple cup of coffee had led to the blonde agent's need for a cold shower.

It had been that way once.

Now all those delicious fantasies tasted bitter, like the cheapest squad room brew too old and reheated and burned, grounds in the bottom of the cup that made JJ grimace, her stomach rebelling even as her heart ached deeply.

The liquid in the cup on the counter held nothing but pain now.

Standing in the middle of her brightly decorated kitchen, JJ turned off the coffee pot and put out the milk and sugar. Long practice had made pushing the past away easy.

Nothing made it less painful.

Carefully avoiding looking at the innocuous mug again, Special Agent Jennifer Jareau continued with getting ready for her day. Emily was gone and nothing could change that. She had a job to do and a baby to take care of and Will would be up soon, looking for his coffee.

 

 

Fin

 


End file.
